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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24446887">a road that leads to nowhere (a road that leads to you)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownsandbirds/pseuds/crownsandbirds'>crownsandbirds</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cheating, Complicated Relationships, Corporations, Depression, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, Established Relationship, I'm Sorry, Implied Sexual Content, Multi, Past Abuse, Phone Sex, Politics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power Dynamics, Schizophrenia, Slut Shaming, Therapy, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Humiliation, anger issues, this fic has become a coping fic, which means it's just gonna get worse as we go</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:02:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,405</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24446887</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownsandbirds/pseuds/crownsandbirds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>'Dimitri doesn't know what he's feeling. </p><p>Many people ask him - Felix, his psychiatrist, his therapist, his father and Glenn when the medications don't work and he still sees them in the middle of the night, peering up at him from the shadows.<em> What's wrong, Dimitri? Why are you like this? Why can't you sleep? </em>'</p><p> </p><p>Dimitri is the traumatized survivor of an attempted murder, too mentally ill to take up the position as the head of the international company his father built. Felix has anger issues, and he has yet to learn how to handle the side effects of his boyfriend's many medications. Edelgard cannot sleep at night, but she will find the people who destroyed her and kill them with her bare hands - and Hubert will do whatever it takes to get her there. </p><p>Things are happening underground, and they're happening fast, and everyone is running out of time.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Edelgard von Hresvelg/Hubert von Vestra, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Linhardt von Hevring/My Unit | Byleth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dimitri goes to the therapist. Felix is trying to handle, but things are very hard sometimes.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dimitri doesn't know what he's feeling. </p><p> </p><p>Many people ask him - Felix, his psychiatrist, his therapist, his father and Glenn when the medications don't work and he still sees them in the middle of the night, peering up at him from the shadows. <em> What's wrong, Dimitri? Why are you like this? Why can't you sleep? </em></p><p> </p><p>His therapist asks, "How are you feeling?"</p><p> </p><p>He averts his eyes. Glances at the books on the shelves behind her. <em> Cognitive-behavioral therapy for post-traumatic stress disorder. Manifestations of obsessive-compulsive disorder. </em> <em> Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders - Fifth Edition. Schizophrenia. International Statistical Classification of Diseases and Related Health Problems (ICD) - 10th version. </em>He's so used to averting her gaze that he has the names on the spines all memorized by now. Smooth, most of the spines broken due to continued usage. </p><p> </p><p>He hasn't been able to properly read books for a while now. Since everything happened. Since those five long years. Books have too many words. Too many pages. They seem so composed. Far away. He's afraid of starting a new book and not being able to finish, and then it would just be one more thing hanging over his head. He still has his old books on his shelves back at his house, but mostly he just rereads his favorite chapters, the sentences he highlighted and the pages he dog-eared when he was 17. </p><p> </p><p>"Dimitri," Mercedes says again, gently. He's snapped back to reality, hazy as it is. It's raining hard outside. It fills his ears. </p><p> </p><p>"Yes," he says, instinctively. Then he clears his throat. He threads his fingers through his hair, growing down his nape again. He'll have to get a haircut. Felix doesn't like his hair long. There are many things Felix doesn't like. At least Dimitri isn't one of them - anymore. "I'm terribly sorry. What was it, again?"</p><p> </p><p>"How are you feeling today?"</p><p> </p><p>He glances around himself. He doesn't see his father, or Glenn, or his mother. He only slept two hours the night before, from midnight to 2 AM, so he's very tired. He wants a cup of coffee. "I'm tired," he settles for answering. He doesn't quite know what else to say. </p><p> </p><p>She nods, takes some notes in her notepad. The pages are a soft shade of lilac. "Did you have nightmares last night?"</p><p> </p><p>He has to think about the question for a second. His nights are strange. If he doesn't have sex with Felix, the hours between nightfall and dawn sort of blur into each other. It's all very long. Exhausting. He never has much to do as it goes by. It's strange to be the only one awake when the entire world is asleep. He wonders if he likes insomnia and not having nightmares or sleeping and having nightmares better. </p><p> </p><p>"I didn't," he answers. "But I didn't sleep very well."</p><p> </p><p>"How are you adapting to the medications?"</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs. He should be honest. This is the whole point of these sessions. He needs to be honest, so that they can help him with everything that's going wrong inside his mind. "Not very well. The - the ones with black labels -"</p><p> </p><p>"The benzodiazepines," she helps, nodding. Very understanding. </p><p> </p><p>"Yes, those. They're not working quite well anymore. I'm sleeping less than I was. My mood swings are -" and he flinches as he says this, suddenly remembering how he'd thrown a cup against their kitchen wall the other day, because he was so <em> enraged </em> - and Felix hadn't even winced, had just scoffed at him and dragged him bodily away from the shards and told him to <em> not fucking move </em> as he swept up the remnants of the cup. "Worse."</p><p> </p><p>"You have to talk about that with your psychiatrist," she reminds him, voice very gentle. He nods. He knows. He has to go to the psychiatrist every week, because they can't seem to find medications that properly work for him. They try one, and then it stops working, and they up the dosage until its maximum, but it still doesn't work, and then they have to try others. And Dimitri is stuck with suffering again what Felix calls <em> the two-month hell period </em>, which is when all the worst side effects hit him straight on. </p><p> </p><p>"And how about your schizophrenia?"</p><p> </p><p>Dimitri stops for a moment as he takes in that word. It's so strange to hear it directed at him. He only got a diagnosis after his twenties - for the longest time, he'd thought it was normal for someone like him to be haunted by the ghosts of his past. And then suddenly it wasn't, he shouldn't be hearing voices, he shouldn't be seeing things, he shouldn't be seeing ghosts. It was strange, the first time he didn't see either his father or his mother or Glenn or Rodrigue all day long after starting medical treatment - it felt empty. As if he'd lost something. </p><p> </p><p>"I miss them," he confessed to Felix that day. He expected a sharp reply, something cutting, as his boyfriend usually was - but Felix looked at him with the dark gold of his eyes and said, "I miss them too."</p><p> </p><p>"I still see them," he tells Mercedes. "Sometimes. Late at night."</p><p> </p><p>"What do they talk about with you?"</p><p> </p><p>"Glenn reminds me of childhood stories," he starts, stops. "Stupid memories. He's always very nice. Caring. He shushes me if I start crying, like he did when I was a child. His hair grows longer every time I see him. But he doesn't get any taller. He's still short. He goes up to my shoulders. He looks older, but he also doesn't."</p><p> </p><p>He realizes he's talked a lot. He stutters to silence. </p><p> </p><p>"And what about the others?"</p><p> </p><p>He shakes his head. He doesn't really want to talk anymore. He feels very tired. He glances at the clock over Mercedes' head. Their session is over. How? He feels like his mind stopped working for at least half an hour. It can't be over already. One thing off his to-do list. </p><p> </p><p>"It's been a pleasure," she says in the end. She shakes his hand, blows him a kiss, as she does at the end of all their encounters. "Have a nice day. I'll see you next week, Dimitri."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>"It's fucking unfair," Felix says as they're washing the dishes at night.</p><p> </p><p>Dimitri winces a little. Felix scowls, scrubs the plate harder. Violence is something complicated between the two of them. Felix is quick to anger, as he's always been since they were younger, quick to curse and roll his eyes and insult, but Dimitri swings between enraged and depressed and manic and sad, and usually it always feels like they're hurting each other even as they love each other. </p><p> </p><p>"What is unfair?" Dimitri asks, as calmly as he can. </p><p> </p><p>"That you get to see my brother and I don't," Felix snaps. His wet hands covered in suds and soap are shaking a little. He sounds very upset, in that way he does when he's close to crying out of anger. His hair is long, down to his shoulders, but tonight it's wrapped in a tight, merciless bun. "That he talks to you and he doesn't talk to me."</p><p> </p><p>"Felix," Dimitri says very softly. "Felix, I have schizophrenia."</p><p> </p><p>"I fucking <em> know </em>, goddamit." Felix shoves the plate to the side, turns his back to Dimitri, crosses his arms. The tap is still running, water fast down the sink. "I know you're fucked up in the head. I just miss my brother. I just really miss Glenn, okay?"</p><p> </p><p>His shoulders are shaking. Is he crying? Dimitri feels very sad now too. He takes a careful step forward. Another. He takes a deep breath. </p><p> </p><p>"Felix," he says. He likes the sound of his boyfriend's name on his tongue. It's reassuring to say it. </p><p> </p><p>"<em> What </em>."</p><p> </p><p>"Can I hug you?"</p><p> </p><p>They had tried to have sex earlier, but Dimitri was tired and Felix was angry and they really wanted to have sex but they hadn't quite managed it. It wasn't that they didn't want each other. They desperately want. Their mutual desire is there, always: in the way Dimitri glances at Felix as he combs his hair, naked, after a shower; in the way Felix runs his hands up and down Dimitri's back when they've both just woken up, in the way they can't keep their eyes off each other. </p><p> </p><p>The medications make it complicated. Dimitri's libido is all but non-existent some days, even as his mind is insanely eager for Felix. He cannot make his body feel physical pleasure. He has told Felix before to fuck him anyway, because he wants to, even if he doesn't get to come, he wants to see Felix feeling good, he takes emotional and mental delight in having Felix inside him, in holding him close, hearing his voice close to his ear, belonging to him entirely, seeing how beautiful Felix looks when he reaches his climax. Dimitri <em> likes </em>it, he truly does, and he doesn't pay much mind to his own release or lack of it (it's hardly something he can control after he started his medications) - but Felix doesn't like it, says he doesn't want to feel like he's just using Dimitri, and so whenever it goes wrong, whenever they go from frantically making out on the couch to awkwardly sitting back up again, it feels strange, and the entire apartment feels slightly off. </p><p> </p><p>Dimitri doesn't have many words to explain how things feel. He's only just learning. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn't get a verbal answer to his question, which, considering Felix, is all but permission, so he steps forward again and wraps his arms around his boyfriend. </p><p> </p><p>Felix leans back against his chest, sags a little, relaxes. "It's just so hard sometimes," he whispers, and two tears run down his cheeks and drop from the edge of his jawline. "It's so hard."  </p><p> </p><p>Dimitri kisses his damp cheek, holds him tighter. He likes this, also. Just - comfort. Being here. Being with Felix. "I know, my love," he says, kisses Felix's forehead. "I know."</p><p> </p><p>The tap is still running. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Linhardt has no patience. Hubert makes a deal.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Are you still having suicidal thoughts?" Linhardt asks him, arms crossed over his chest, face completely blank. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri hates how blunt his psychiatrist is sometimes. Tenderness and gentle questions, he gets from Mercedes; from Linhardt, he has to grit his teeth and answer the sharpest inquiries. It was the only method that truly worked with him - other psychiatrists had never been able to get anything useful out of him, nothing concrete enough to muster up enough evidence for a diagnosis, but Linhardt has no will or patience to take soft turns in order to achieve a conclusion or prove a hypothesis, and all of his conversations are straight to the point, often sounding uncaring of Dimitri's feelings and not budging at his hesitation to talk about sensitive subjects. If Dimitri cried, he was offered a tissue from the box that was always on the left side of the desk between them, and about one minute to get some composure back into him. After that, Linhardt would ask him again, and so their sessions went, and this was how Dimitri actually got his official diagnosis - schizophrenia, major depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, and others - and some medical help. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was useful. He was very grateful. It didn't mean he enjoyed it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Dimitri," Linhardt said again, flipping his long, dark green hair over his shoulder, staring straight into Dimitri's eyes. "Are you still having suicidal thoughts?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This isn't a good day. Mood swings - from depressed in the morning to easily irritable in the afternoon. It happens. "I heard it just fine the first time," he snaps. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Linhardt is half Dimitri's size, lean and small and fragile, with his long hair and his lidded eyes - but he doesn't even blink. "Then answer me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri grits his teeth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Linhardt takes a deep breath, which Dimitri knows it means he's about to go on about something extremely cutting that will make Dimitri uncomfortable and embarrassed. "I need to know because if you are, I'll have to change the approach towards you entirely. If you're still having suicidal thoughts or plans, I'll have to contact your partner, and your therapist, and change your medications, and not allow you to be left alone for a single second during the day. If the situation declines, I'll have you committed to a mental hospital. When a patient starts thinking about killing themselves, their opinion doesn't count anymore for me as a doctor. Only their survival. If you're not honest with me, I'll just assume the worst."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri tightens his hands into fists on his lap. "I'm not. I don't - I don't think about that anymore."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Linhardt smiles, sudden, in that way he does when he's pleased. "Great." He writes something down in his illegible handwriting on his small notebook. He only ever uses black pens, Dimitri has noticed. He notices the smallest details. "You're a high-risk patient, Dimitri. You need to understand that."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri nods, and says nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Have you been talking to your therapist about your trauma?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri feels himself going slightly dizzy. "I… have talked to her."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And what?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What conclusion did you reach?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There's no conclusion to be reached."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course there is. She's your therapist, she's there so the two of you can have enough conversations as to reach conclusions that will be beneficial to your mental health. I could explain the cognitive-behavioral theory to you, but I'd just be bored."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri is suddenly irritated. The lights are too bright. His phone is almost dying, he needs to text Felix before the battery runs down because they're going grocery-shopping after this. He doesn't know how much time has passed since the session started, and he doesn't want to check his watch. "What do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> from me?" he snaps. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Linhardt looks at him for what seems an uncanny amount of time. After a while, he says. "You're a borderline suicidal patient with major depressive disorder, schizophrenia, chronic insomnia, night terrors, and post-traumatic stress disorder. You have a history of self-harm and eating disorders. You're blind in one eye. You were the heir to one of the greatest and richest corporations in the country, or even the world, and you lost your father and your mother in a car accident. Your boyfriend's older brother died to protect you. You were in the news for weeks. Everyone wondering what was going to happen, what were you going to do, if you were going to take over the company. You're too traumatized to do that. You're in college, but you have no idea what to do. Your boyfriend has anger issues and an immense amount of resentment. What I want from you, Dimitri, are results." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At this point, Dimitri is crying, a silent type of crying, where the tears drip down his face and fall on his lap. He doesn't know what he's feeling. Everything is so strange. Linhardt won't stop </span>
  <em>
    <span>talking</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He wants to go home. He doesn't want to go home. He wants to fly away. Empty, and confused, and everything is overwhelming. He wants to die. He wants to go back in time and die in that car accident. He wants to be able to get inside a car without having a panic attack. He wants to sleep. He wants something to have some meaning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're not giving me results. Sometimes I don't know what to do with you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," Dimitri chokes out. "I don't know what to do with myself either."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wonders if this is the moment where Linhardt will give up on him, where everyone will give up on him, if this is the moment where he's free to let go of everything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Linhardt quickly scribbles something on a paper and hands it over to Dimitri. "This is your prescription. I've upped the dosage for your depression and for your schizophrenia meds, I've changed the benzodiazepine for your insomnia, and I'm trading this medication for another one that should be more efficient for your intrusive thoughts. Also changed your mood stabilizer. Tell your boyfriend to get a psychiatrist too, if you would." He props his chin up on his entwined fingers. "I'm a patient man, Dimitri. We'll figure this out."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri folds the paper in half, unfolds it, folds it again. Wipes the tears away from his face. "How?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Linhardt smiles. It almost reaches his sleepy eyes. "Come back next week and I'll tell you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri is going down the elevator to the first floor so he can get the subway back home, and he adds 'psych appointment - 4pm' for next Thursday on his phone's calendar. Just so he'll remember. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I could give you anything you want," Hubert says over his cup of black coffee. His golden eyes are dark. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Linhardt gives him an unimpressed side glance. They only ever meet late at night, when Hubert is doing his work, and Linhardt isn't sleeping. They've known each other a long time. It doesn't mean they like each other. It just means they respect each other sometimes, and there's a strange bond between two people who take the night for themselves. They meet in the 24/7 convenience store close to the library where Linhardt does his midnight insomniac research, ten or fifteen minutes away from the penthouse Hubert shares with his lady. With </span>
  <em>
    <span>Edelgard</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There's nothing in particular I want," Linhardt says. "What makes you think you know anything about my desires, Hubert?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not asking much of you, Linhardt. All I want are your notes on Dimitri Blaiddyd. And I'll give you anything you desire."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Linhardt hums a soft note, slurps on his milkshake. "I don't want money, no matter how much you offer to me. I don't need it. My clinic is doing well. I don't want to be dragged into the complicated world you and Edelgard are. I'm happy as I am, doing my research, studying my patients. Dimitri is one of the best patients I have. I see no reason for me to do as you want."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hubert smiles, and it's terrifying, under the white lights at 2 in the morning, but Linhardt is unfettered. "I could give you data straight from the best university in the world about antisocial personality disorder."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Linhardt cannot hide the way his eyes shine at that. "Straight from it? Unadulterated?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I can give you data for your PhD research from wherever you want in this country's medical scenario, and from some other countries as well. I can give you patient reports, research results, ongoing experiments. When I said I could give you anything you want, I meant it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hubert continues to smile. "I have my ways."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Linhardt narrows his eyes. "I'm not quite sure I trust you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But you want it. You know there are things the health institutions don't make available to the public, or even to the doctors themselves, no matter how much you try. Academically, at least. I have contacts. I know people. I can get you as much information for your research as you want. The forbidden results from experiments, the ones they refuse to let anyone know about. I can give you that."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Linhardt slurps on his milkshake again. Bites at the straw. "Give me the most recent information on the currently confidential experiment on the treatment of children with post-traumatic stress disorder after sexual abuse. You know which one I'm talking about."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>that. Give it to me, and you can have some of my notes on Dimitri. Both the medical ones and - the other ones. A trade for a trade. The more you give me, the more I give you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hubert finishes his coffee. "You have proved yourself useful after all, Linhardt. I never thought you had it in you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't praise me, Hubert. It's a waste of breath for you, and a waste of time for me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Very well." Hubert extends his hand. "Do we have a deal, doctor?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Linhardt doesn't even blink when he grasps Hubert's gloved hand. "We do."</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i married linhardt two times, so he's just my favorite character in all of fire emblem. this delved more into the political aspects. next chapter, we're back to dimitri and felix and executional dysfunction.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dimitri has executive dysfunction, Felix has anger issues and a lot of pent-up sexual frustration, Sylvain is desperate.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>buckle up everyone because the ideas i have for this fic mean everything will just get more and more fucked up as we go</p><p>TW: cheating</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"What happened?" Dimitri asks weakly, from where he's lying on the bed. Everything is very distant. He closes his one functioning eye, opens it, closes it, opens it. There's music playing in the background. He fiddles with the blanket covering him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Felix scoffs from where he's leaning back against the wall, snaps a short </span>
  <em>
    <span>goodbye</span>
  </em>
  <span> in his phone, throws it on the bed carelessly. Dimitri catches a glance at his lockscreen - the battery is almost dying, somehow it is already 6pm, and the picture is of the two of them in one of their rare holidays. "Sylvain."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri hums. He can't move. He keeps telling his mind to move his body. If he could get up, if he could get dressed, if he could shower, he would feel better. He knows. If he could get dressed and go to the gym with Felix, and do some exercise. If he had something to eat. If he could reach behind himself to grab the water bottle he keeps on the bedside table, he could drink some water, and that would be something. Something is always better than nothing. But he can't do something. He can't do anything. He's nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Felix sighs, grabs his phone, sets it to charge next to Dimitri's on the bedside table. It's oddly domestic. It makes Dimitri feel better. "Sylvain and Ingrid broke up again," he explains. He sounds very irritated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri hums again. He has a collection of answers he could give to that - </span>
  <em>
    <span>again?, </span>
  </em>
  <span> or, </span>
  <em>
    <span>What was it this time?</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Has Ingrid called you about it?, </span>
  </em>
  <span>or, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is there anything I can do?</span>
  </em>
  <span> - and in any other day he would, but today is one of his very bad days, as Felix puts it, and he can't say anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sylvain and Ingrid broke up again because Sylvain can't manage to stay in a monogamic relationship where he can't be poly," Felix continues. He sits down on the bed, places his hand on Dimitri's hair. It's just been trimmed, and it looks neat and nice. He presses down with the tip of two fingers right on one of many of Dimitri's pressure points, the one just under his jaw. It's not enough, but it does help Dimitri relax just a little more. "It's the same issue again. Sylvain loves her, but he can't settle down just for her. She won't allow him to see other people or love other people." He shakes his head. "They'll never get it together."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri swallows, opens his mouth, closes it. "You know," he whispers, "you know why he always calls you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Felix nods once, sharply. "Of course I know."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri takes a deep breath. Felix is threading his fingers through his short hair now. "Then you should," he starts, stops. His mouth is very dry. He really should have some water. "Why not him?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He's better, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dimitri wants to say, as he's said many times before. He's had this conversation with Felix before. Many times. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He's better, he's handsome, he's head over heels in love with you. He's been desperately in love with you ever since you two met. He's smart, and nice and funny, and a good person, and would make you happy. He doesn't have schizophrenia. He doesn't have depression. He doesn't have days in which he can't get out of bed. You could actually have good sex with him. He's going to make you happier than I ever could. Why not, Felix? Why not? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Felix scowls, and he's so gorgeous. Felix is so gorgeous. Dimitri idly realizes how in love he is with his boyfriend. "Because </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Dimitri. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I'm not going to break up with you to be with Sylvain, I won't let you break up with me, I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> - I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> fucking letting your self-hatred issues get in the way of something I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I want to be with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You don't get the right to decide who I fall in love with. Stop trying to shove me at Sylvain. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stop</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri winces. Why is Felix so harsh? Why does it hurt so good? He likes it when Felix is angry, he realizes distantly. Is it because he thinks he deserves it? He doesn't know. He can't think of anything right now. Felix is gripping at his hair, Felix is tugging him upwards, Felix is -</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's being kissed, roughly, painfully, and Felix is smaller than him but he has one arm wrapped around Dimitri's waist and he's supporting the whole of his weight effortlessly as he bites Dimitri's lips and forces him to open his mouth so he can shove his tongue inside. It's a filthy kiss, deep and desperate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri opens his eyes, and stares at the white ceiling above them, and wraps his arms around Felix's neck, and everything is so far away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Felix pulls away. Dimitri feels colder than he's ever felt in his life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No," he says, weakly, reaching for Felix, "No, come back, I want you -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I won't fuck you," Felix snaps, and moves away, and Dimitri wants to cry. "I won't use you. I'm not doing anything with you when you're like this."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But I want you here," Dimitri says, "I need you here. Don't leave me again, Felix."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Felix looks disgusted. "Are you going to beg?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri closes his eyes, and turns in bed, and bites his lip. He can still taste Felix on top of his tongue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There's a moment. It stretches. Finally, Felix sighs, and lies down in bed, and wraps his arms around Dimitri. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not leaving," he whispers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Please don't," Dimitri mouths, unheard but seen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not leaving," Felix answers. "Dima," he says, and Dimitri can feel his mouth turning up in a small smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Whore," Felix growls into his phone, as he works his hand frantically around his cock. God, he's so close, and he's so angry, and he just - "Fucking slut. Fingering yourself open when there's no one to fill you up."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvain </span>
  <em>
    <span>moans</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the other end of the line, sounding almost pained with how turned on he is. "Please, Felix, please, please fuck me -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Worthless," he snaps, and he jerks himself off faster, and he bites his lip because he cannot groan too loudly because Dimitri is asleep in their bedroom and he's such a light, scared sleeper, but this is not where Felix's mind is right now, he's sitting on the bathroom floor thinking of Sylvain, and his gorgeous mouth made for sucking cock, and his sinful body, and the way he looks at Felix as if he wants Felix to break him in half. "You're made to be fucked, but no matter how many people stick their cocks inside you, you know you belong to me. You know you're mine to use." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes, Felix, God, please," Sylvain is whimpering now, he must be close to tears, and his breath is ragged and desperate, and he sounds so </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "Yours, always, I'm yours, you know I am, you can do whatever you want with me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You wish I was there, don't you, you slut? You want me there to put you on your place, to fuck you until you can't even </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Please, Felix, I need you here, I want you so bad, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Felix, I - I love -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Shut the fuck up," Felix snaps, and Sylvain makes a broken sound as if he's choking on a sob, undone and desperate. "Just shut up and take it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Felix comes, he ends the call, and sends a sharp </span>
  <em>
    <span>call you tomorrow</span>
  </em>
  <span> text to Sylvain with his clean hand, and he stares at the come splattered over his other hand. He wishes he could bring himself to feel something. The bathroom lights are way too bright above him. He has a headache. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri is still asleep. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hubert is restless, Edelgard is demanding.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Come back to bed, Hubert," Edelgard says, raised up from the bed on an elbow, her hair flowing like a silver river of glass on the black, clean, expensive bed sheets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hubert shakes his head once, doesn't look back at her. She's too much - perfection, a being of pure light in his dark world. If he looks back at her, he won't be able to stop himself from doing as he's told. It's hard enough to ignore her orders out in daylight, in their respective jobs, when he thinks she is making a mistake and deliberately acts out of his own accord to prevent any harm from coming upon her; like this, as they are, with her flawless body naked and her hair loose and her eyes bright and sharp like a pair of gems, he knows he would do anything. He cannot look at her. He will not. He already indulged far more than he will ever deserve tonight and all the nights before this - he will not overstep again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hubert," she says, and he grips the rail of the balcony to physically stop himself from caving into that commanding voice curling around the syllables of his name. "Do not leave me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiles, unseen. "I do not presume to take my leave until you've explictly stated for me to do so, my lady."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You know what I mean. Do not leave me alone right after you've made love with me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Love</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The word makes him shiver. He cannot. He will not. "I've done my duty and warmed your bed, as you told me to. There is nothing else for me to do." </span>
  <em>
    <span>Your</span>
  </em>
  <span> bed, he makes it a point to say. It's not their bed. It's hers. He is merely - an instrument in her hands. Hers to do whatever she pleases with him. His own room is on the other side of the hallway, small and simple, with his books and his journals and lab samples. He will leave, as he always does after his presence is dismissed by Edelgard, and he will take care of his nightly duties, and he will not allow the memories of what they do inside her chambers distract him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edelgard doesn't respond, and for that he is grateful; he closes his eyes, and feels the chill of the breeze on his face, and takes notion of his body. He is dressed, with his button-up white shirt and his trousers - his lady will rest and fall asleep, and he will continue his job deep into the morning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He will put on his shoes and make sure she's asleep and close the door quietly behind himself; and he'll take his coat and his suitcase and set about in the dark streets. There are people to talk to, there is business to be done, money that needs to come and go from curled fingers into inside pockets. There are rumors going about lately, a person who names themselves Yuri, and there aren't many people in the underground of the city that Hubert doesn't know about, but he does not know about Yuri, and he needs to find out immediately. Money laundering is not the easiest thing to do, and Hubert appreciates the challenge, maybe all the more so because of the constant danger he puts himself into - but the risks are high for Edelgard as well, and he needs to be cautious. He's just talked to Linhardt the day before, but he knows, from experience, that Linhardt is not someone you should lean on, and Rodrigue has taken on the task to bring the Kingdom company into the international scenario better than anyone ever expected of him, and Claude isn't making </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> any easier, and if the rumors about Dimitri being with Rodrigue's son are true -</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then there is a pair of porcelain-white arms wrapping around his hips, and bare breasts pressing up against his back, and all the breath rushes out of him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hubert," she whispers in his ear, and he shivers immediately, instinctively, his existence trapped in the curve of her lips and the color of her eyes. "I want you here."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But, my lady," he starts, and tries not to stammer, and grips the rail tighter. "My duties -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You are my loyal servant, are you not?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Always. Forever. Since my birth, until the day I die."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Stay here. Warm our bed. Hold me." Her hands are trailing up his chest, his neck, undoing the two top buttons of his pressed white shirt, the tips of her fingers against his throat. He feels undone, laid bare by her touch and her presence, and his breath is ragged, and she's pressing a smile between his shoulder blades. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> is what I want you to do."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I have things to do," he says, and he should move away, there is no reason for this, he shouldn't -  "Important things. There are people I must talk to. Matters that need to be attended." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Attend </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"My lady -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wed me, Hubert. Move into my chambers. Be my husband. Be mine."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I am yours. You know this, you must. After all these years." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Then marry me. Take my surname. Carry my ring on your finger," and here she takes his hand, and presses a lingering kiss on his ring finger, and he shudders so badly he almost falters. It is always like this, with her. Every touch is nearly unbearable, every brush of skin against skin close to the burst of a galaxy inside his veins. She's too much. Her words trap him, her arms hold him, and he feels vulnerable, fragile, owned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You know -" he says, and his voice is weak as her hands caress his waist, slow and appreciative. They have had this conversation before. "You know I cannot. It would be unseemly. There's no advantage for you in such a proposition. You must rise above me. I will not allow you to be sullied by marrying someone like me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Someone like you?" she asks, and forces him to turn around, so the small of his back is pressed against the rail and she's staring straight into his eyes. She's wonderful, a force of nature, the dangerous beauty of starlight in a woman. "Someone like you," she says again, a statement, and her expression is set in authority, her chin raised, and he is powerless, he is hers, and both of them know. "I love </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Hubert."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wants to close his eyes, he wants to leave, he doesn't want to hear it again. It's hard enough to handle it when she's straddling his hips and riding him, face flushed, moaning his name, telling him how he belongs to her. This is harder. This is the hardest thing in his life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I cannot -" he whispers, somehow, somehow the words are leaving his choked up throat, "I cannot wed you. I do not deserve it. I will not."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Edelgard looks pained to hear it, her brows furrowed, her lips pursed together. "But you love me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He almost falls to his knees then - he wants to kneel at her feet, kiss the back of her hand, kiss the floor she walks on. Give her his entire existence again. "I -" he stutters. "I -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She kisses him, and he's stunned into silence. "I know," she says after they part. "I know."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath, and nods. "Yes."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Come back to bed, Hubert. I do not desire to take the </span>
  <em>
    <span>yinfen</span>
  </em>
  <span> tonight."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But, my lady, your conditions -" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes. It will hurt. I will not be able to sleep. I will have nightmares. However, I do not wish to take it for this night."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If that is your wish, I cannot go against it. However, for you to endure it alone -"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Precisely. I want you to be here. I want you to hold me. Kiss me. Keep me warm when everything is cold. Wipe my tears away when the pain makes me weep. And I want you, and no one else. And one day, after we have done all we must, after we have conquered what must be conquered, you will marry me, and kiss me where everyone can see, and you will be mine."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There is nothing else he can do. Everything in his mind fades away. He is undressed swiftly by her skilled fingers, and he is brought back underneath the covers, and Edelgard places her head on top of his chest and kisses right over his heartbeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i am just SO IN LOVE with these two</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sylvain wants to cut himself on Felix's sharp existence.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ingrid was crying out of anger when she broke up with Sylvain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I can't do this anymore," she said, in between sobs, and she sounded furious, she sounded </span>
  <em>
    <span>enraged</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and she sounded devastated, and Sylvain was crying because she was crying, because he had caused her so much pain, because it was all his fault, </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "I can't, Sylvain. You're too much. I give up. You've crossed every single one of my boundaries, and I can't - I </span>
  <em>
    <span>won't</span>
  </em>
  <span> - do this anymore."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He whimpered, "I'm sorry, it's just how I am, I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>," and she snapped, "Then change everything about yourself," and hung up on him. Just silence in Sylvain's ears. He felt something in himself break. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He called Felix. He called Felix while lying alone in his bed, curled up with a blanket around him, and he said, "She broke up with me," and Felix snarled, "You bastard," and Sylvain winced, but he leaned into it, because Felix was right, of course he was right. And then Sylvain whispered, "Tonight?", and Felix texted him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>after dimitri falls asleep</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, Sylvain said. Of course. People like him need to adapt to other people. They need to bend. It's alright, he thinks. It's alright. He's used to it. He's used to being worthless, he's used to being the afterthought. He has never owned Felix's heart, and he knows this. He's never tried to. He's just - an aside. Not even a lover, because he hardly believes Felix loves him. You'd have to love someone to treat them nicely. The only thing Felix does is answer his calls, text him back every so often when he feels like it, come over to his place to play videogames and drink beer while Dimitri is at the psychiatrist because Sylvain lives closer to the clinic and Dimitri can't be trusted in any sort of car or public transport by himself, so Felix walks him back and forth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And cheat on his boyfriend with him. Mostly through phone calls, because, again, Dimitri. Dimitri can't spend a night by himself. He has nightmares, night terrors, he needs Felix there, and Felix is always there. </span>
  <em>
    <span>My prince</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Felix calls him soothingly, during very rare occasions, Sylvain knows because Dimitri had a panic attack one time when he was in a call with Felix and Felix forgot to turn off his phone and Sylvain heard </span>
  <em>
    <span>my prince, it's okay, I'm here, I'm not dead, hey, talk to me, don't look at them, don't talk to my brother, talk to me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The nicest thing Felix ever calls Sylvain is by his name, when he's in a good mood. Otherwise, he's a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bastard, insatiable, useless, stupid, worthless. Slut, whore, made to be used. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They have sex in the middle of razor-bright afternoons, when Dimitri is in his classes and Felix and Sylvain are ditching their own to play videogames, argue about RPGs and fuck. They have sex when Sylvain is not dating Ingrid, which is more common than the alternative. Because Sylvain will be an affair - but only for Felix, he says, and Felix scoffs at him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you would bend over for anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but that's not true, it's only because it's Felix, because it's him, there's never been anyone else but Felix - but he will not be a cheater. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because Ingrid deserves better than that. She always has. Ingrid is above him. Ingrid is perfect. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ingrid has beautiful blonde hair, and gorgeous eyes. She is hardworking, and she is fair, and she is smart. She can do anything. She is a law student, and she wants to bring justice to the world, she wants to make things better, and wherever she goes, she makes an impression. A good impression. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvain is just the eye candy that makes her suffer and breaks her heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has a reputation, you see. A reputation he built himself during high school and that carried on to college. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Heartbreaker</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Will flirt with you for two weeks and will leave you. Don't trust him. Don't fall for his pretty face. I hear he's had sex with all his friends. I hear he's had sex with everyone. Heartbreaker. Slut. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first time Felix backhanded him, they were in a party, and Sylvain approached Dimitri and fit his fingers to his chin and asked if he could kiss him, and Dimitri blinked down at him with his single gorgeous blue eye, and Felix dragged Sylvain off of him by the arm and slapped him with the back of his hand and said, "Bitch. Are you just ticking all of us off your list? Do you just need to have sex with every single one of us? Don't touch Dimitri. Call </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> next time you need a dick down your throat and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I'll</span>
  </em>
  <span> put you in your place."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn't the last time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvain got used to being slapped, in that merciless way Felix did it, with the back of his hand, across his cheek. Bitch slap, they call. Sylvain wants to laugh. It makes pleasure shoot up his spine. He feels so good. He loves it. He loves it rough and he loves it hard and awful and filthy, and he loves it in the precise, exact way Felix does it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They have today off, their classes have been cancelled, and this is the best part of them doing the same major at the same year, because they get free time together, and free time together means sex, beer, and videogames. Sylvain has been waiting for it all morning, waiting; and when he gets Felix's text of </span>
  <em>
    <span>be at yours at 2</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he smiles, and he forgets Ingrid broke up with him, and he forgets everything, and he's smiling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, he hates being beautiful. Sometimes, he wants to take a knife and make slashes all over his face so that no one will love him or want him anymore. He wants to be impossible to love. He wants to be undesirable. He wants everyone to expect the worst of him so that he can never hurt anyone again. Sometimes, he doesn't know what he's doing. What does he want, missing Ingrid when it was his fault she broke up with him in the first place? What right does he have to miss her kisses, her smile up at him in the morning, the way she arranged her pens and her notebook when she was studying, the way she would rest her head on his lap while he played videogames, how they would work together, sometimes, him doing his coding and she taking notes from her huge textbooks, and how domestic it was to wake up and make her coffee and take her to nice places and make her laugh. What right does he have to yearn for something he never deserved? He is always doing his best. He wonders why his best is always the worst thing he can do. He doesn't want to hurt her, but he always hurts her, and she leaves. And that makes him sad. Lonely. He loves her in the right way you should love someone, but that is not enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But, right now, he's high off the heavens with </span>
  <em>
    <span>yinfen</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he's smiling, and everything is sharper and brighter, he's trailing the tips of his fingers over his stomach as he waits for Felix to arrive. The door is unlocked, it's always unlocked for Felix - he can just take the elevator, stride inside the apartment, take Sylvain, do whatever he wants. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sylvain rides happily on that train of thought for a little while, and time is moving faster than he thinks it is, and there are steps on the hallway, and Felix is opening the door and walking towards the bedroom, and Sylvain pushes himself up and says, "I want you," and Felix snarls, "Shut up," and kisses him, and draws blood from his lips, and bites his neck, and Sylvain isn't thinking of anything other than, "Felix, more, please, take me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Slut," Felix whispers, and he sounds like he's smiling, and Sylvain could cut himself on that sharp blade of a smile, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes," he whispers back, "Yours."</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>well, apparently i'm back. or something</p></blockquote></div></div>
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